Redemption
by TheClumsyHero
Summary: Nothing could have prepared Desmond for what he was about to see. In his long life he had been through so many situations that would leave even the brightest of minds in awe, he had created things that humans may not have even found comprehensible...No, right now, only one thing ran through his mind as he stood staring at this crying girl before him. Aurora.


Hello everyone! I just want to start off by saying, that's for clicking on this, but I want to clear some stuff up. This does include a lot of Desmond and Aurora, and for some reason I can't tag here here? Second, it's an older Desmond, which you will come to see. I plan on adding more characters as the story comes along.  
Other than that, please enjoy!

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He had grown old after all these years. It was almost an incredulous thought to be honest, thinking that such a dangerous and crafty man could age as he had. It was an even more astounding thought to think that the man who had evaded imprisonment and life threatening injuries for such a long time had been hospitalized, reduced to hanging up his hat and cape in exchange for hospital bills and therapy. However, he had gained one thing from his endeavor; an uncomfortable limp. Perhaps it was age that had set him back, perhaps it was reckless behavior, but he knew that he had never hurt himself before now. Well...that time with the Professor's little assistant didn't count. Anyway, neither had stopped him from still getting back out onto the field. He was an archaeologist, and like hell would a little limp keep him from doing what he loved! Just as Desmond had said "The world was his oyster." He planned to follow through with that and continue with his life despite some minor injury. Most certainly a minor setback compared to what would happen next in the poor man's life.

It was always Desmond, or rather, Descole and Raymond. He was always there to lift him up when he was down, even do the most minuscule tasks for him when needed. He had always been by his side, his right hand man...so of course, the day he had passed had completely devastated the Professor. Desmond had loved this man as a father. He was all he had left in this cruel world and now he too had slipped from his grasp. Life just really seemed to like throwing him down. He couldn't hang on to anyone...not one single person. First his parents, then his brother, his wife and daughter, and now the only person he had left was taken as well. But...at least this time, it had been a natural cause, not one caused by Targent agents, or in any gory manner. It was just old age...but that didn't mean it was any less devastating. Desmond had found himself locked away, surrounded most of the time, by silence. There was occasionally a break in that dark atmosphere, due to the creak of his chair as he shifted ever so slightly, or the gentle spark that flew off the tip of his match as he lit a candle within his room. This behavior had ensued for far too long...longer than he could keep track of. And though it had taken a while...he had eventually been able to snap himself out of such a depression. However, his life had never truly recovered.

It was always Raymond by his side telling him he could press on, telling him he could do whatever he wanted with the world. And now that he was gone... well reality finally hit the man. He was getting up in his years. He couldn't be trapezing around like he had used to. Granted, he wasn't particularly young when he had seen the secrets of the Azran...when he had finished his life goals...but now, well, it just seemed somewhat...pointless. He still had a deep love for archaeology, however, there was no need for Descole anymore. There were no organizations that would be coming for him, there was no one for them to target. And the day he realized that, was the day his Descole disguise was gingerly packed, and stored away in the darkest part of his closet. He didn't have the heart to just get rid of everything. However, he also couldn't continue on with Descole. So he kept him close to his heart, and yet tucked away from sight. He was in his fifties now, but that didn't mean he wouldn't still head out and make wondrous discovers, create astounding machines. He _was_ the famous Desmond Sycamore. He just had grays poking out from those fluffy brown locks, some aging upon his face, and a cane in his strong grip, replacing his sword it seemed. However, it matched those red glasses of his. It wouldn't have been his cane if it hadn't been a bit over the top. And with said cane in hand, he was happy to leave the house and continue with his discoveries and inventing (even if a lot of that was in secret), to continue his life, even if he was alone. He had gotten over a large bump, and because of that, his life would at least be joyful for a few years to come. He still had the excitement he wanted, and he was doing what he loved... however, not even he could see the discovery he would come across as the years brushed by. And a discovery it was...one even more mysterious and explainable then that of the Azran.

The day had been different than the schedule he had fallen into...then again, he wasn't out on the field, which was what contributed so much to the oddity. There was absolutely no where the fifty five year old had to be when he awoke in his bed, greeted by a blurry room. This part of the routine had at least been the same each and every day. He would lean over, slide on his red spectacles, and then slip out of bed and hobble into the bathroom to start his day. However, back in London, there was absolutely no rush. No archaeological discoveries...all he had to look forward to were clouds hanging over head, and a few excited faces as he made his way down the street, that is, if he decided to leave the house. And today, he most certainly wasn't going to remain cooped up. Though he was back home, it didn't mean he would slow down. Even after his accident he hadn't slowed down. He just continued on, cane in hand, and he would continue to do so until the day that he died. So he woke up, brushed out his hair (and spent more than enough time styling it), slid on his suit, and adorned it with a scarlet tie before he opened up the door and headed out of his house. It was much better than staying within a small home. This was a man who had graced himself with the finer things in life, with castles, airships, the best money could by. Though, with his frequent visits to London anymore, he found that it was more logical to just own a home rather than find a place to stay each and every time he made a trip back to his hometown. And it had honestly saved him money in the long run. Not that he really needed to be nit picky with money. His parents had left him a rather sizable sum of money in their passing which he handled with care. Not to mention his success as an archaeologist. No, Desmond was most certainly well off in life, and could afford more than this measly London home if he had wished to, though it did it's job as a house. He wasn't going to complain, not now anyway. Maybe in a few years or so, then he could go back to his giant castles and airships.

The sky seemed to shine brightly today, a nice change he noted, as he stepped out of his house, and locked up shortly afterwards. Then he was off down the sidewalk, where to, he wasn't even sure. He just knew that it was better than being cooped up all day, the only time he would approve of that is if he had a good book in his possession, or perhaps even something new to study, and interesting at that. But, seeing as he lacked either item, he headed out of the house instead. Perhaps he could stop at the library and see if he could find any reading material, order a cup of tea, and sit down to read for a short while. Of course there was the museum that was a simple bus ride away, though he had visited enough times already. He could almost name each and every display off memory at this point. No, he would prefer something new today. Perhaps some excitement...well, at least on a page. For compared to what he considered exciting, London was anything but. He would settle for his books and tea here, and perhaps some small bickers on the bus. You know how the old saying goes; beggars can't be choosers.

It had been a while since the man had begun his trip to the large library, and already he felt a gentle pain welling in his leg. He most certainly had his bad days, and irritation seemed to well up deep within him. He did not plan on wasting money on a bus ride today. So of course, the stubborn man continued on his way, though not peacefully. Not in the slightest. Brown brows had furrowed rather tightly together as he walked, more force pushed onto that cane he held then really necessary. He was so focused on beating that limp and pain swelling that he had nearly toned out everything surrounding him. However...he had heard the slightest noise which drew his attention right off his leg. And that sound was...gentle sobs...and they sounded young at that. Being the perceptive, and ever so curious man he was, Desmond almost instantly found his crimson eyes peering around to try and find the source. And in no time at all, he found the person that was releasing the gentle noises off into the air.

She was a girl, a young girl at that. From the back he couldn't see much aside from dark blonde locks that adorned her small form, and gracefully fell against her back. It was quite apparent that she was crying, due to the small droplets on the ground before her. Now Desmond had shown his care for children with Luke...however...he had had a young child at once, a beautiful young girl. He couldn't just leave that young girl standing there crying. If his daughter and wife saw him do such a despicable thing after everything else he had done in his lifetime...well, that didn't matter. For the man felt his hand moving to shove his cane against the ground, and he made his way over to the pitiful form, before he found himself stopping just before her. On any other day, he would have knelt down before her so that they could see eye to eye. However, today, he decided not to risk it. Chances were he would have found himself stuck down there, and he would not be caught in such a sorry state.

So he stuck so simply asking what was the matter in a calm voice.

"Excuse me, young lady." He called ever so gently, eyes soft on her sad form. "Are you alright? Where are your pare-" and he was cut off mid-sentence.

Nothing could have prepared Desmond for what he was about to see. In his long life he had been through so many situations that would leave even the brightest of minds in awe, he had created things that humans may not have even found comprehensible. And yet here he was, completely awe struck because of this girl before him. Blue eyes, swollen and red from tears seemed to pierce right through him. His hand had slipped, his cane dropping to the ground with a thud that fell on deaf ears. No, right now, only one thing ran through his mind as he stood, hopelessly frozen in place, staring at this crying girl before him, one name as he peered upon this pale skinned child.

_Aurora. _


End file.
